


In the dark of the night, let your heart come home to me

by akandde



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Just a bunch of headcanons honestly, also she's black, and gerard is half vietnamese half cuban so jot that down, i wrote it a while back LOL, some of this may have been destroyed by recent canon, widow is bisexual sorry i dont make the rules
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akandde/pseuds/akandde
Summary: It's been so many years since she remembered. She doesn't want to forget.





	In the dark of the night, let your heart come home to me

**Author's Note:**

> whew it's been a while! i actually wrote this a long time ago but left it unpublished, but since it's valentine's day i figured i'd post it! it might be awful but enjoy lol

“Tell me about him.”

Widow leaned back a little further, settling more comfortably against Sombra’s shoulder. “They’ll hear,” she said.

“Not in here,” Sombra assured her. “I debugged this room the second I was assigned to it.” She pressed a soft kiss to the side of Widow’s head, draping her arms gently around her form. Widow sighed.

“He was a good man,” she started, staring at the wall ahead of her. “We met in the most cliché of ways -- in a coffee shop, back before I became famous. Before either of us were famous.

“I was working as a barista when he walked in, still in his military pants and boots. It was the middle of the morning, after the breakfast rush but before the lunch one. It was just him, me, and an old lady sitting in the corner of the café.” She closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in the memory -- it used to be so hazy; for a while, she couldn’t recall it at all, but she remembered now. She never wanted to forget again.

_“Good morning,” he greeted with a smile. Her heart skipped a beat -- it took her a moment to compose herself._

_“Hi,” she replied, smiling back. “Welcome to Café Dupont. What can I get for you?”  
_

_“Oh, whatever you recommend,” he said. She raised an eyebrow.  
_

_“I drink very strong coffee, monsieur. I don’t think you want what I would suggest.”  
_

_He waved dismissively. “Please, my dear, I’m one of the world’s best snipers. I can handle a cup of coffee.” He winked, and Amèlie felt her face heat up. She was glad blushes were hardly noticeable on her dark skin, lest she feel even more embarrassed._

_“Si tu insiste,” she muttered, turning away from the handsome stranger to fix her normal blend - dark roast with a single pump of hazelnut flavoring. “Who is the best sniper?” She asked, before she could stop herself.  
_

_“Hmm?”  
_

_“You said you were ‘one of the best.’ So who is_ the _best, then?” She glanced back at him, and he grinned._

_“Ana Amari.”  
_

_“The woman in Overwatch?”_  
  
_“That’s her. God, what I wouldn’t give to meet her someday.” He smiled even wider, and Amèlie felt her blush return. She quickly turned back to the coffee, fixing the cup so that none of it would spill out. Impulsively, she scribbled two things on the side of the coffee cup, and handed it to him._

_“Have a nice day,” she said, grinning._

_“How did you know my name?”_  
  
“What do you mean?”

 _“You wrote something on the side of the cup.”_  
  
“Oh, that. I figured it was identification enough.”  
  
_He glanced down at the coffee cup, tilting it slightly so he could read what the side said. “World’s second best sniper,” he read. He snorted. “Well, I suppose that’s close enough...” He tilted the coffee cup a little further to try and see what the second line read, but it slipped from his grasp and spilled across the counter. Amèlie laughed at him. “Yes, hilarious,” he said, in a voice that sounded like it was trying to be annoyed, but the man was still smiling._

 _“I’ll make you another one,” Amèlie promised in between giggles. “I’ll put your real name on it this time, whatever that is.”_  
  
_“Gèrard. With an accent on the E.”_

_“Nice to meet you, Gèrard, the world’s second best sniper. I’m Amèlie, barista and aspiring ballerina.” He laughed.  
_

_“Really living up to that starving artist trope, huh?”_  
  
_She rolled her eyes. “Just you wait, Gèrard. Someday, I’ll be on stage at Palais Garnier, and you’ll eat your words.”_

_“I believe it,” he said, his voice no longer mocking. “Just make sure to send me tickets.”  
_

_“Bien-sûr.” She turned around with his second cup of coffee to see that he was still examining the first cup, his smile somehow even bigger than it was before. She felt her stomach flutter -- god, please, let that be a good sign.  
_

_He pulled out his phone and put the number she’d written out on the cup in. “Merci,” he said, taking the cup of coffee from her hands. “I’ll see you, Amèlie.”_

Sombra was studying her. Widow could feel her girlfriend’s eyes on the back of her head, trying to assess the best thing to say. “You loved him,” she finally settled on, after a minute or so of silence.

She smiled sadly. “Well, not then. I thought he was very handsome. And I thought that he was going to go places, someday. But yes, many months later, I would realize that I loved him.

“It was shortly after he joined Overwatch, that I realized. He loved his job there, and he loved the people there, but at the end of the day, between both of our busy schedules, we always had time for one another.” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I realized after one of my shows, in mid-march. We were performing Swan Lake, and I had landed the lead. It was the last showing, and Gèrard had yet to be able to attend one. I was afraid he wouldn’t get to see me in my first big role, you know?

“And then, as I exited the stage to my dressing room, there he was, dressed in a suit with his hair gelled back, with a bouquet of flowers and a big smile. He said, ‘You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”, and I started crying. I broke down and hugged him and kissed him and when I composed myself I told him I loved him, and he said it back. And we just kind of stayed like that for a while, in each other’s arms outside my dressing room, with me still in full costume and makeup.” She felt a tear slip from her eye, followed by several more. She sniffled, and Sombra wrapped her arms a little tighter.

“Shh,” Sombra said, tracing small patterns into Widow’s arm with her thumb. “It’s okay that you miss him. It’s okay that you loved him.”

“He deserved so much better than what happened, Sombra,” Widow whispered, her voice breaking. “So much better than me.”

“Don’t say that, Araña. It’s not your fault.” Widow exhaled, shuddering against Sombra, who continued tracing swirls into Widow’s purple skin. “It was never your fault. He still loves you, I know. He watches you from Heaven and forgives you. He knows.” Widow sobbed softly, and Sombra pressed a kiss to her temple again, shifting slightly so she could stroke Widow’s hair. “He knows. I promise.”

“I’m afraid they’ll make me hurt you, too,” she confessed, her voice still barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid that I’ll hurt you, and I’ll never remember. I forgot for so long, Sombra. I don’t want to forget again.”

“I won’t let them hurt you, Araña. You are safe with me.”

“Sombra?”

“Yes?”

“I...” she inhaled, shuddering. “I love you.”

Sombra grinned. “I love you too, Amèlie.”

**Author's Note:**

> akandde.tumblr.com


End file.
